Tag Archives: memories

Not The End, The Beginning – Part 3

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Cousin fun on the Rifle River, Omer, Michigan. June 2023

Part 1

Part 2

This year will mark my 12th year back working at Russell Canoe Livery.  Each year, I love it even more and appreciate what my parents and grandparents built.  Without the canoe livery, pursuing my teaching career, and student teaching in particular, would not have been possible.  None of it would have been an option.  Only when I returned to the family business in 2013 did I fully understand just how much my mom contributed to the canoe livery.  After retiring from teaching in 2010, Mom became more involved in the business.  Only in 2013 did I begin to take over some of her responsibilities.  I had to reconsider what I wanted and the narrative I had created for myself.

Growing up, I always looked up to my dad and Grandpa Buttrick.  Both businessmen, I saw how both had created a life for themselves using family businesses.  In Dad’s case, the seasonal nature of the canoe livery allowed him to pursue other interests and provide us with a great quality of life.  As his sidekick, I grew up watching Dad making decisions about the business.  Prior to building the Crystal Creek shower house in 1992, I went with him to check out similar showerhouses.  One of my earliest memories is going with Dad in his truck to unclog the artesian well across the road in Crystal Creek Campground.  I used to argue with him when Erica and I would catch the bus from our house behind Crystal Creek to our main location in Omer.  He, of course, wanted us to ride in his bus.  Knowing that he wouldn’t let me bounce around in the back of the bus, I wanted to ride with anyone else.  Dad often won.

Grandpa Buttrick, on other hand, moved his young family from Marshall, Michigan to Standish, Michigan to take over his grandfather’s business:  Forward Corporation.  On our yearly trip to the Upper Peninsula with my Buttrick grandparents and cousins, we always had to stop in Gaylord to check on his convenience stores.  He loved the business, and due to a unique set of circumstances, I managed one of his convenience stores for a few years.  Through that experience, I learned just why he loved that business so much.  If I hadn’t moved back to Michigan in 2005, I would not have had the opportunity to get to know Grandpa Buttrick so well before he passed away in 2007.  Like teaching, business runs deep in my blood.

Late 90s at Russell Canoe Livery.
Hard at work!

When I graduated in 1999, I attended Michigan State University to pursue a business degree in supply chain management.  I quickly decided to pursue a Spanish degree too.  I couldn’t give it up.  Both of my older cousins earned degrees in supply chain management from MSU as well.  I knew the program, and frankly, the subject still fascinates me.  Even though I didn’t end up with a long career in supply chain, those experiences during my years at MSU made a deep impression on me and still shape how I view the world.

The processes of working so closely with my parents on all things relating to the canoe livery and establishing my teaching career gave me a whole new appreciation for my mom.  I will never understand how she taught kindergarten for 15 years.  Two half-days substitute teaching in kindergarten were more than enough for me.

As time went on, I slowly realized that the canoe livery would not have been nearly as successful without Mom and Grandma Reid.  Dad may have had the vision and made it happen, but it would not have been possible without great customer service provided by us all.  I may have grown up wanting to follow in Dad and Grandpa Buttrick’s footsteps, but I followed in my mom’s instead.  I just faced a different set of circumstances.

Not The End, The Beginning – Part 2

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Not The End, The Beginning – Part 1

When I went back to school in January 2014, just over 10 years ago, I admit, the idea of being an older student intimidated me, especially online courses.  When I graduated from Michigan State University (MSU) in 2004, online courses were not nearly as developed as they are now.  Due to a combination of landing a full-time position in Houston, Texas within a week of graduation, moving across the country, my stubbornness, and adjusting to working in corporate America full-time, my first experience with online classes did not go well.  That early negative experience stayed with me.  Fortunately, I adapted.

During the academic year, I planned to attend class and work on coursework two to three days a week while substitute teaching as much as possible.  To add insult to injury, I didn’t just take classes at Saginaw Valley State University (SVSU).  No, I decided to enroll at Delta College too.

There were two reasons why I enrolled at Delta.  First, realistically, I could save money when compared to SVSU.  Second, I decided to complete a writing certificate while working towards my teaching certificate.  In the end, I had a wonderful experience at Delta College.  My history and writing classes, all taken at Delta, are among my most treasured.

My decision to complete the general writing program at Delta College stemmed from my involvement with Mid-Michigan Writers.  I attended their Gateway to Writing workshop in the fall of 2013.  That day, I happened to hear a group of Jeff Vande Zande’s students talking about how much they enjoyed his class and the wonderful writing program at Delta.  Vande Zande, who happened to be the keynote speaker that day, taught a screenwriting class at the time.  A few years later, his screenwriting class changed the way I look at movies forever.

At SVSU, I had to decide which secondary endorsements I planned to pursue.  In addition to Spanish, I had to choose between social studies and English.  Social studies won.  In 2019, I started a new position as a middle school teacher at St. Michael School and began taking classes to earn my English endorsement.  As with so many things in my life, I didn’t want to have to decide between two great options, so I didn’t.  I did both.  In spite of a pandemic, scheduling conflicts, and other considerations, I finally completed my English endorsement in May 2023.

In the end, I resigned my position in order to finally complete my English endorsement.  As incredible as it seems, SVSU, even in the aftermath of a global pandemic, offered no online or evening options for the two classes I still needed.  It wasn’t the only reason I left St. Mike’s, but I knew if I didn’t, I’d never be able to finish.  It ended up being for the best.

Sadly, that summer, approximately a month after I resigned, the assistant principal at St. Mike’s – and so, so much more – passed away.  It is safe to say that my life would be very different without Norma Vallad.  I certainly would not have landed at St. Mike’s without her involvement.  So much of our school culture revolved around her down to every last detail.  I still can’t imagine St. Mike’s without her.  Fortunately, I didn’t have to face that prospect in the fall.

By the time I finished my English endorsement last May, I felt such a deep sense of closure.  After all these years, no more educational pursuits to chase – unless, of course, someone would like to pay for a masters degree or PhD.  As far as I am concerned, I have nothing left to prove.

Teaching left me conflicted.  On one hand, I had come way too far to give up on teaching.  Yet, my first full year of teaching coincided with the Covid 19 pandemic.  I saw first hand how the pandemic affected teachers, students, parents, administrators, and everyone else.  The apathy I saw and experienced still haunts me.  As I reconsidered my role and future in education, little did I know that the best was yet to come.

Stay tuned for Part 3 …

Ghosts of Christmases Past

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It never seems to fail.  Come the first week in December, I get overwhelmed with everything that needs to get done before Christmas – decorating, shopping, cards, planning, and so much more.  As a teacher, that doesn’t even include everything that needs to be wrapped up before winter break.  December, and Christmas in particular, are such a whirlwind of emotion and activity.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas.  In fact, I adore it.  My December 18th birthday just adds to it all.  The reality that I am another year older doesn’t always help.  I am old enough to miss several people who are no longer with us, particularly my grandparents, all of whom loom large in my Christmas childhood memories.  Somewhere in the first week of December, I hit a wall, and frankly, I don’t want Christmas to come at all.  Yet, it always does, and somehow, everything gets done on time.  New memories are made.  I just wish that it wasn’t such a messy process.

As with anything else in my life, I have to get over my idea of “perfection.”  Who cares if I decorate later?  I am decorating just for myself.  Who cares if I leave up my Christmas a little longer?  I still want to enjoy it once the craziness is over.  It is time to move on and continue not caring what others think.  It will all work out in the end.  I will get plenty of time to spend with family and friends over break, and maybe even a chance to rest.

What is it about the Christmases of our childhood that bring back such vivid memories that we long to recreate?  The thing is, it is in my blood.  My mom adores Christmas.  When mom and dad were newlyweds, she started playing Christmas music in October.  After spending nearly a week in the hospital after I was born (yes, I am that old, and my mom was sick when I was born), my parents brought me “home” on Christmas Eve.  In fact, they didn’t take me home.  They took me directly to Grandma Buttrick’s for the Christmas Eve festivities.  I don’t believe we arrived home until the next day.

I often wonder what that Christmas Eve 1980 at Grandma and Grandpa Buttrick’s was like.  The only evidence I have that I was there are pictures of my parents holding me as I was decked out as Santa in a Christmas sleeper with a Santa beard bib.  I wasn’t even the only one celebrating her first Christmas.  My cousin Abby would turn one year old a few months later.  It is fitting that we shared a first Christmas, just as we shared so many other childhood memories and fears.  Christmas would not be the same without cousins.

As if two babies at Christmas wasn’t enough, 1980 represented the first Christmas in Standish.  Earlier that year, Great, my great grandma, moved from Marshall, Michigan to Standish in order to be closer to her sons, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.  I grew up hearing about all of the epic Christmases in Marshall at Great’s house.  My mom and her sisters still marvel at how their mother packed everything for Christmas for five girls and then hauled it all across half the state.  I imagine I get the same look in my eyes when I talk about Christmas Eve at Grandma Buttrick’s – or our entire itinerary – that my mom and her sisters get when they talk about Christmas in Marshall.

I can envision a time when my nieces and nephews will reminisce about the Christmases in Omer at Grandma Lala’s and Papa Chocolate Mik’s house, the house in which I grew up.  I love to see how much they enjoy spending time together, even if it is absolute chaos.  I just hope that I help to create a little bit of Christmas magic for them all.

Author Profile: Anne-Marie Oomen

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Michigan author Anne-Marie Oomen visited Saginaw Valley State University
and the surrounding area in April.

Anne-Marie Oomen

I am ashamed to admit it, but I have yet to fully read one of Anne-Marie Oomen’s memoirs or books of poetry, even though I own two of her books (signed) and have attended a couple of her writing sessions (one for teachers and other, this past spring, open to the general public), as well as a reading from her latest book, As Long As I Know You:  The Mom Book.  I’ve only read and heard snippets of her work … so far.

What I’ve read and heard thus far is wonderful, and knowing the topics/subjects/genre included in many of her books, I know that I will love them.  How could I not purchase a book titled Love, Sex, and 4-H?  Then there is As Long As I Know You:  The Mom Book.  I can’t wait to read it.  The passages that she read during her author event, along with the anecdotes she shared about herself, her mom, and writing the book, definitely left me hooked.

What I really want to discuss today is her capacity as a teacher.  Just over a month prior to the shutdown orders signaling the official start of the pandemic, I had the opportunity to attend a day-long writing program aimed at teachers.  Titled “Homecoming:  Coming Home,” it was sponsored by the Saginaw Bay Writing Project.  Anne-Marie Oomen happened to be one of the presenters that morning.

During her allotted time, she taught us the term ekphrasis – a method of using different works of art to create various forms of writing, whether poetry, personal essay, or short story.  Imagine studying a painting and then creating a poem from your experience.  That is ekphrasis.

After explaining the process and providing us with examples of her own work, Anne-Marie Oomen had us create our own art inspired piece.  She brought with her a large collection of postcards.  I chose one with a portrait of Annie Oakley on the front, “little sure-shot.”  I enjoyed the experience and still have a digital copy of her presentation from that day.  I left realizing that I could easily create vision boards on Pinterest to gather my thoughts and ideas for various writing projects.

Anne-Marie Oomen used the painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper
to demonstrate the process of ekphrasis.

As wonderful as that experience was, a few months ago I learned that Anne-Marie Oomen was to be a guest scholar at Saginaw Valley State University.  During that time, she conducted a similar writing session open to the general public at the Marshall Fredericks Museum on SVSU’s campus.  I am so glad that I attended.  It made me look at one of my favorite museums in an entirely different light.  I left with a notebook full of ideas and even a rough draft.  The following evening, Anne-Marie Oomen held a reading at the Wirt Public Library in Bay City, sharing snippets from As Long As I Know You:  The Mom Book.  I’m so glad that I attended as it brought back so many memories of the short few months I had living with Grandma Reid before she needed more care than I could provide.  It is never easy watching someone you love age and decline.

I took something away from each of Anne-Marie Oomen’s events.  On top of sharing her love and knowledge of writing, she is a wonderful teacher.  Better yet … she is a Michigan author willing to help aspiring writers and teachers.

Anne-Marie Oomen’s latest book As Long as I Know You: The Mom Book details her experience dealing with her relationship with aging mother.

Gordon Lightfoot – The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (1976)

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Gordon Lightfoot – The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (1976) (Video) (Lyrics)

(Written May 7, 2023)

“The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they called ‘Gitche Gumee’ …” (Gordon Lightfoot 1976)

There is probably no more iconic opening lyric in modern music history.  Sadly, Gordon Lightfoot died on May 1st, 2023 at age 84.  In capturing the story of the tragedy of the Edmund Fitzgerald in song, he immortalized the iron ore carrier, its crew, and its disputed demise for generations to come.  In a sense, it has become an elegy for all those lost on the Great Lakes over the centuries.

Growing up in Michigan throughout the 1980s and 1990s, we learned about the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald through Lightfoot’s lyrics.  Personally, I’ve been fascinated ever since.  It is easy to see why so many are still drawn to the story.  First, it is a fairly “modern” shipwreck.  The Fitzgerald sank on Lake Superior on November 10, 1975.  They had enough lifeboats, modern radar, and radio communication.  In fact, Captain McSorley’s last radio communication with a nearby ship, the Arthur M. Anderson, was “we are holding our own.”  That chilling fact alone sends my imagination reeling.

Next, there are lingering questions as to exactly how the Edmund Fitzgerald sank.  Some say that she ran aground on Six Fathoms Shoal, while others believe that the hatchways were not properly secured.  Then, there are those who believe one of the Three SIsters – a reference to gigantic waves developing on Lake Superior in the wake of incredible fall storms – doomed the ship.

In fact, the subject of the Edmund Fitzgerald still garners a lot of local interest in Michigan.  In September 2022, former reporter and Edmund Fitzgerald researcher Ric Mixter presented information on the wreck at the old court house in Omer.  I happened to attend his presentation, and for such a small community, there was standing room only.  Ric Mixter, a former reporter for local WNEM TV5, went on to present in Bay City and other nearby communities as well.  What’s great about his presentation is the depth of his research, his respect for those who died in the tragedy, and his obvious love for the subject matter.  He lets his audience decide for themselves the ultimate cause of the wreck.  After I attended Ric Mixter’s presentation, I compiled some of his resources in the post All Things Michigan.

Finally, Gordon Lightfoot’s master songwriting draws one into the tragedy.  WIth lyrics like “ice water mansion” and “Does anyone know where the love of God goes, When the waves turn the minutes to hours?,” it becomes a timeless folk song dedicated to the power of the Great Lakes.  By telling the story in a basic timeline format, he immortalizes the old cook and Captain McSorley, along with the rest of the crew, for all time.  I can’t think of a better tribute to the 29 men that lost their lives that fateful November day.  It is one of the most haunting songs I’ve ever heard and fully deserves its rightful place in the history of timeless American folk songs.

Of Hunting and Fishing, Reading and Writing

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Teddy Roosevelt is easily one of my favorite Presidents.

Sometimes I question whether or not Dad realizes what an example he set for his children – or at least me, as I can’t speak for my brother or sister.  He, along with my mom, spent the last nearly 46 years owning and operating Russell Canoe Livery and Campgrounds, Inc. and are still actively involved in the business.  They purchased the canoe livery from my paternal grandmother, Judy Reid, in June 1977, a few months prior to their wedding.  Growing up in and with the business, I saw firsthand what my parents and grandparents did to grow the business, including the sacrifices they made.

As a child, whenever anyone asked what my dad did for a living, my response of “he owns a campground and canoe livery” fascinated many.  As the canoe livery developed, Dad focused on creating a business that not only worked around our family life – it complimented my mom’s teaching career and our school schedules well.  It also allowed him to pursue his hobbies of hunting and fishing in a way impossible for most people.

I admit it:  I know more about hunting and fishing than any non-hunter, non-fisherwoman I know.  All thanks to Dad.  I grew up feeding Beagle hunting dogs used for rabbit hunting; with various mounts in our basement; and learning what a Pope and Young record meant, once my dad killed a Canadian black bear with a bow and arrow.  That bear now infamously resides in our main office/store in Omer, a legend in his own right.

This guy gets a lot of attention during the summer months, holding down the fort in our office.
Russell Canoe Livery, Omer, Michigan

As a young child, when I asked Dad why he hunted deer, he took the time to give me the full, true explanation.  At six years old, he explained how deer hunting helps control the deer population in Michigan.  If they weren’t hunted, there would be many more car/deer accidents, and they could become over-populated, causing starvation and disease.  I have never forgotten that lesson.  Even though I am no hunter myself, I have no issue with it – as long as rules are followed and as much of the animal is used as possible.

What I admire most about my dad is how he was able to create a life for himself in which he prioritized what he wanted out of life – and it wasn’t money – it was about lifestyle.  Even though he didn’t directly use his degree in wildlife biology in his career – he didn’t become a conservation officer – that knowledge allowed him to more fully understand what was needed to become a better hunter and fisherman.  Dad’s passion for his hobbies, even today in his 70s, still inspires me.

Dad and Me – Camp Russell 1981, with his first bear.

What I’ve long realized is that I am just as passionate about reading and writing.  He may not see it or recognize the correlation, but I do.  It is the reason why I earned my writing certificate from Delta College, took additional humanities courses when possible, joined Mid Michigan Writers, attended several writing workshops, and so much more.  Everyone should be so lucky.  I am never bored.  I am eternally grateful that my dad was able to find a way to make it all work and set an example for me to follow.  Per usual, I’m just doing things the “hard” way.  I will get there … eventually.

Book Review:  Storyteller by Dave Grohl (Audiobook)

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I admit, it took me a little longer than usual to get through Storyteller:  Stories of Life and Music by Dave Grohl, but it certainly didn’t disappoint.  It is one of the best memoirs I’ve read.  Considering his current stature in the world of pop rock/alternative, whatever you want to call it, as a drummer, his humble nature shines through.  It all started with his pure love of pop rock, namely the Beatles, moving on to the punk scene of the late 70s and early 80s, and making it big with Nirvana and grunge.  Today, it seems as though Dave Grohl has settled in as drummer and girl dad extraordinaire.  If planning on reading the book, I highly recommend the audiobook version as he reads his own memoir.  There is nothing quite like hearing about Nirvana’s early days and the danger of their exploding fan base from the drummer himself.  Then there are the well-placed expletives in his internal monologue as he meets his musical heroes and juggles world tours with daddy-daughter dances and musical projects with Joan Jett.

There is so much that stands out that it is hard to know where to even begin.  First, the unwavering support of his teacher mother is undoubtedly one of several keys to his success.  She supported – or put with – his love of music and his decision to drop out of high school in order to tour the United States with a band.  Dave’s description of his discovery of punk rock at the hands of a formerly “preppy” family friend is memorable, as is his realization that she was in a punk band herself.  It sets the stage for what is to come.

His description of his life between dropping out of high school and eventually joining Nirvana is as hazy and transient as his life at that time.  It’s great and easy to imagine.  Opportunities to fill in and drum with his idols Iggy Pop and Tom Petty standout as it is clear that Dave was as star-struck as can be at the time.

Frankly, the section in Seattle with Nirvana is just sad as we all know how it ended.  Dave’s descriptions of Nirvana’s meteoric rise to infamy is gut-wrenching to read and full of danger.  He describes in spectacular detail playing venues far too small for how big Nirvana had grown in such a short amount of time thanks to MTV and “Smells like Teen Spirit.”  After Kurt Cobain’s death, Dave understandably took some time to process everything and ground himself once again.

Given the timeline, it appears that Dave developed Foo Fighters and started his family at roughly the same time, both growing together.  For me, the best part of the book involves Dave’s descriptions of juggling life with his three daughters and superstardom.  Stories involve things such as Paul McCartney giving his eldest daughter her first piano lesson and Joan Jett reading his daughters bedtime stories.

The Joan Jett story is one of my favorites.  It starts with Dave in the Barbie aisle helping his daughters pick out a doll and coming across a Joan Jett doll.  His girls didn’t realize that Joan Jett was a real person.  Soon, Joan herself was over to their house working on some musical project with Dave, when his oldest daughter asked her if she would read them a bedtime story.  She did .. in her pjs.

Then there is the story of the daddy-daughter dance.  It involves a whirlwind trip to Australia and back to make the dance, the Australian tour itself, and a horrific bout of food poisoning.  Yet, he made it and didn’t break his little girls’ hearts.

Above all, it is a series of stories about following your dreams, hard work, fame (or infamy), family, and music.  Dave’s descriptions of conversations with his dad are touching in the end.  In the beginning, it seemed as though Dave hated his dad due to his conservative politics and his parents’ divorce.  While much of Dave’s relationship with his dad remained complicated prior to his fame, it does seem as though they made up in the years before his father passed away.  It also appears that Dave took his dad’s financial and career advice.

While I didn’t outline it here, there are plenty of rock star stories from the road in the book as well.  They are just as good.  Dave appears to have found a balance between his career and family both in the memoir and in real life.  If you love music at all or just enjoy memoir, check it out.

Book Review:  The Reading List by Sara Nisha Adams

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The overall message of The Reading List by Sara Nisha Adams far outweighs anything else I can say about the book.  Are the characters relatable and well-developed?  Yes.  I found myself cheering them on throughout the entire book.  Would I say that they are the best or most important aspect of the book?  No.  The relationships they develop with one another are much more interesting.  Above all, the role that the local library and the reading list plays in the plot and the development of the relationships between various characters is the real story.

The main protagonists, Aleisha, a young teenage girl with a troubled home life who works at the library over the summer at the suggestion of her older brother, and Mukesh, a widower who struggles to regain his sense of purpose after the loss of his wife of decades, Naina, meet at the local library.  The unlikely friendship that unfolds after their first unpleasant meeting sets the stage for all that follows that fateful summer, changing both of their lives irrevocably.

Set in the quiet London Borough of Ealing, the local library serves as a focal point for the community, even if it is well-loved and in search of additional patrons.  The reading list Aleisha finds, labeled “just in case you need it,” ultimately brings several people together in unexpected ways.  It is this list that I find to be the most interesting aspect of the book.  It is obvious that The Reading List was written by a bibliophile for bibliophiles.

The following reading list is found in the book:

In Case You Need It …

The Time Traveler’s Wife * (discussed in the book, but not included on the list)

To Kill a Mockingbird

Rebecca

The Kite Runner

Life of Pi

Pride and Prejudice

Little Women

Beloved

A Suitable Boy

______________________

From the Author …

Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake

Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Zadie Smith, White Teeth

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Americanah

Katherine Heiny, Standard Deviation

Rohinton Mistry, A Fine Balance

Hiromi Kawakami, Strange Weather in Tokyo

Angela Carter, The Magic Toyshop

Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Attia Hosain, Sunlight on a Broken Column

Ali Smith, There But For The

Ultimately, The Reading List is about how books and libraries can bring us together.  It is a great message that more people need to hear.  While I don’t often hear it anymore, there are still some people who do not recognize the modern importance of libraries.  Personally, I believe that they are more important than ever.  I am grateful that my local libraries appear to be doing well and have a lot of local support.  I can’t imagine life without them.  What makes The Reading List so powerful is the demonstration of how various characters connect over books and how those connections impact their lives.  The right books seem to appear at just the right time.  I feel for anyone who has not had that experience.  I cannot recommend The Reading List enough.

Yes.  I do intend to eventually read through both lists.

Omer, Michigan

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Recently, I realized that I mention my hometown extensively without providing many details.  Unfortunately, many readers – even seasoned Michiganders – might have no idea where Omer, Michigan is.  It is just under an hour north of Bay City.  If you take the 188 Standish exit off of I-75, you will likely end up on US 23 north in Standish.  Omer is the next small town, approximately 7 miles north on US 23.  A bridge over the Rifle River, a caution light, and a set of railroad tracks are all landmarks to let you know that you have traveled through the city.

Being from Omer, Michigan isn’t for the faint of heart.  For decades, the city of Omer has held the distinction of being Michigan’s smallest city, boasting a population just shy of 300 souls.  Living in a small town does not come without its hazards.  Nothing remains private for long.  Both of my parents grew up in the area as well, with both of their families having ties to the area going back generations.  Growing up attending Standish-Sterling Community Schools, not only was I a teacher’s kid as my mom spent most of her teaching career at Standish Elementary, our family business, Russell Canoe Livery, meant that my family was well-known in both Omer and Standish.  In fact, Omer has no school, aside from a Head Start program aimed at preschoolers.  When Omer’s school burned down in the early days of the 20th century, it was never rebuilt.

Sadly, despite its location in the heart of Arenac County and its one-time status as the county seat, little remains of a once thriving city.  Today, the Arenac Country Historical Society works to preserve the Old Courthouse, the lone remaining structure to tell Omer’s cautionary tale.  During the early part of the 20th century, roughly 1905-1918, Omer experienced a series of natural disasters (namely fires, floods, and tornadoes) that nearly destroyed the city.  Throughout the 80s and 90s, the local diner, first known as Cody’s and later Ziggy’s (now a Dollar General), had disposable placemats outlining Omer’s history, including the natural disasters.

Originally named Rifle River Mills, Omer’s identity has always depended on the Rifle River.  In the late 19th century, lumber from dense northern Michigan forests traveled rivers such as the Rifle to the sawmills in the south, namely in Bay City and Saginaw.  In fact, our main location in Omer, our smaller campground, is the remains of an old mill pond.  In fact, it becomes easy to imagine the pond if you look at the current topography of the campground.  Today, the Rifle River is used exclusively for recreational purposes – fishing, canoeing, kayaking, rafting, tubing, and more.  One day last summer, I saw two young girls in bathing suits walking down Carrington St. carrying their canoe.  It is forever frozen in my mind as the most “Omer” thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Today, Omer is home to three campgrounds, two of which are also canoe liveries, Russell Canoe Livery and Campgrounds, Inc., being the largest.  In addition, Omer is home to Meihls Mechanical, a self-storage business that is continually growing, Dollar General, the Sunrise Side Senior Center, a library attached to city hall, a post office, a small park with basketball hoops and playground, the Old Courthouse, and not much else.  While not exactly thriving, the city itself looks better than it has in decades, closed Rob’s Auto and Greg’s Market aside.

Today, Omer is relatively well known for two things:  the local sucker run and witchy wolves.  The sucker run deserves it own post.  As it will be starting soon, stay tuned.  My piece on the witchy wolf legend, dating back to right after the US Civil War, can be found here.  Omer will never be perfect, but it will always home.

Paul McCartney and Wings – Give Ireland Back to the Irish (1971)

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Picture used as the album cover of Wildlife (1971), Wings’ first album. Photo Credit: Barry Lategan

Paul McCartney and Wings – Give Ireland Back to the Irish (1971) (Video) (Lyrics)

(Written March 19, 2023)

Paul McCartney never disappoints, and “Give Ireland Back to the Irish” can be considered a perfect demonstration of the breadth and depth of his talents.  This past winter, December 2022 to be exact, The 7” Single Box Set hit stores.  This monster encompasses 80 seven-inch vinyl singles dating from his Wings and solo careers, spanning over 50 years of musical history (1971-2022).  Easily retailing for hundreds of dollars, the idea works as vinyl continues to come roaring back thanks to collectors and the lack of a better medium.  What could be better than listening to music the way it was originally intended?  As I have no vinyl collection and my days of collecting physical music (my CD collection in the 90s, early 00s) are long over, it never occurred to me to find the collection digitally.  Fortunately, that is precisely what I did, and for that, I am grateful.  “Give Ireland Back to the Irish” shines in the collection as the gem it is.

Rediscovering my favorite Wings hits, along with Paul McCartney’s extensive back catalog of solo work, made listening to The 7” Single Box Set a guilty pleasure.  “Give Ireland Back to the Irish” definitely caught my attention.  First, I had forgotten how much I love the song.  It also hit me how easy it is to forget that Paul McCartney can actually rock all on his own, silly love songs aside.  I still consider it among the best protest songs of all time.

Then there is the significance of the song.  Growing up in the 80s and 90s, I devoured the news daily.  I learned about “the Troubles” at a young age, and it is still something I will never understand.  Hatred between Catholics and Protestants?  It didn’t make sense.  Differences of opinion and belief?  Yes.  Hatred?  No.  It went against not only everything I had experienced as a child in my daily life, it also went against everything I had been taught to believe.

First, my father’s extended family is roughly half Catholic and half various Protestant denominations.  While my family and I belong to the Methodist church, my paternal first cousins were raised in the Catholic Church.  As a toddler, I attended cousin Nicole’s first Communion.  When my Russell grandparents married in 1943, my Protestant great grandmother, Dad’s Grandma Russell, supposedly didn’t originally like the idea of her youngest son marrying a Catholic.

Next, Standish, Michigan, the site of my entire K-12 education, is largely Catholic.  I spent my early childhood watching my classmates attend Catechism on Wednesday evenings.  My Catholic classmates knew my beloved Joyce – my neighbor, babysitter extraordinaire, and adopted grandmother – from 3rd grade Catechism as she taught Catechism for nearly three decades.  I watched in envy that spring as the Catholic girls dressed up as miniature brides to make their first Communion.  Later, as an adult, Mom shared with me that she’d felt the same way watching her Catholic best friends make their first Communions decades before.

Finally, our neighbors were Catholic.  Not only were they Catholic, they were the most devote Catholics I’ve ever known.  It is no secret that my brother, sister, and I adored Joyce and Carl.  On Saturday afternoons, Joyce could often be found ironing all of the linens about to be used in Mass later that evening.  Earlier in my childhood, my parents actually used to go out from time to time on Saturday evenings.  Joyce could babysit, but there was one catch: my sister Erica and I would be attending Mass with her family, as would our brother Garrett years later.

Much to my Methodist grandmother’s amusement, her Catholic friends would comment on seeing my sister and I, dressed up and on our best behavior, in Mass with Joyce and her family, looking cherubic.  Erica and I may have attended the local Catholic church more than our Methodist church in our earliest years.  Those Saturday evenings are among some of my best memories of time spent with Joyce, Carl, Karla, and Joelle.

Even as a young child, I recognized the cognitive dissonance required for me to hate Catholics.  It would have meant hating many of the very people closest to me throughout my childhood – friends, family, teachers, etc. – solely based on religion.  Considering my paternal grandmother’s Ukrainian/Polish heritage, it would almost demand some level of self-hatred.  I will never even begin to understand.

Supposedly Paul McCartney’s family was a mixture of Catholic and Protestant as well, which would explain “Give Ireland Back to the Irish.”  Even given his level of fame, the song took a certain amount of courage to write and record, particularly in the aftermath of the Beatles and the formation of Wings.  The lyrics say it all:

Great Britain you are tremendous

And nobody knows like me

But really what are you doin’

In the land across the sea?

Lyrics:  Paul McCartney/Linda McCartney